Insomnia
by PaopuSora
Summary: Maybe I'm just turning into that vampire Sparkling McSparkles-a-lot. Does that mean Marsh is my Blinky Whore?    Pairings: Staig/Cran


**A/N:** My first Staig fanfic. Enjoy (:.

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><p>My name is Craig Tucker. I'm wide away staring at my ceiling. A faggot-pussy is sleeping next to me. Before your imagination starts working, no we weren't doing anything faggy. He simply had to sleep over because his parents wanted to go to Vegas. His sister lives in Denver and couldn't come babysit the pussy because she's having a baby shower. Fucking whore.<p>

I close my eyes and groan as sleep refuses to overcome me. Where's the fucking sandman when you need him? Obviously not fucking here. It used to never bother me when people used to sleep in the same bed as me. I don't know why it would be different with Marsh. At least he's not McCormick. I swear that kid smells like a fucking dumpster or something. And he really needs to keep it in his fucking pants.

I roll over on my side and open my eyes. I'm shocked to be seeing Stan's face. His striking blue eyes closed. Not that I really care. His messy hair was even messier, probably from his tossing and turning earlier. I swear that kid can't lay still. Fucking ridiculous. His nose compliments his face. It's pointy but not too pointy. I stop myself before I go any further. What the fuck was I doing? What's even worse is that I'm staring at him as if I was that horny vampire sparkly fag.

I snort and start to turn onto my other side when of fucking course Marsh drapes his huge hulky arm over me. Fucking jock. I try to move around and realize I'm stuck. On my side. Facing Marsh. With his arm over me. It couldn't possibly get any faggier than this.

"...Hey. Marsh...Psst...Fag...Pussy..." I glare as I notice my attempts at waking him up are futile. Fucking heavy sleeper. God fucking dammit. Fuck. Fucking dick. Asshole. I sigh and decide to give up. It's not worth it anymore. The amount of time to recover my non-fagginess had expired already. I might as well be dubbed as prince of fags thanks to the king of fags over here.

I try to move his massive arm but can't. It's hooked around my shoulders. Well fuck. Fuck times a thousand. And you know what? This position isn't even that fucking comfortable. Fuck you Marsh. Fuck you to fagland or some shit.

All the cursing I'm doing, mainly towards Marsh, has started to wear me out. I look up at the jock. Maybe I'm trying to memorize his face like the fag I've become now. Maybe some stupid romantic faggotary like that. I don't know. I just. Can't really look away. And it's not the arm this time. Maybe I was just a closet fag all along. I seriously doubt it. Maybe I'm just fagging it out for Marsh. Getting in touch with my inner fag or some shit.

Maybe I'm just turning into that vampire Sparkling McSparkles-a-lot. Does that mean Marsh is my Blinky Whore? I guess so. In a weird sort of way. Where only I think he is. Jeez, I must be pathetic or something...Was Marsh always this good looking? Or is this lack of sleep making me delusional. Maybe both.

Before I could stop them, hot tears started to fall down my cheeks. God damn. Now I'm turning into a pussy. Fucking Marsh. I couldn't even stop the small strangled noises from escape my lips. Or the shaking.

I must've been shaking too hard or being too loud because before I know it piercing blue eyes were staring into my icy ones. Wow, I must look like a pussy right now. Crying in front of the number one pussy. Well, looks like that's about to change.

But, he didn't say anything. He just looked at me with those puppy dog eyes. I wanted to poke them out or something. The last thing I need is pity. But of course Marsh ignores my warning glare and just pulls me in tighter. It's the last place I want to be right now. In his arms fucking sobbing. But it's the place I want to be in the most. I guess being a fag does this to you.

I wait for him to say something or even push me away. But he doesn't. It's like he knows or something. I start to feel pressure being applied to my head and then disappear before it's back again. It takes me a moment to figure it out that Marsh is kissing my head. Stanley fucking Marsh. What a fag. Guess it takes two fags to make this into a sausage fest. Not that I'm really complaining. The kisses are nice. I guess. In that faggy way.

Slowly I close my eyes and I realize I've been falling. but I've landed already. In Stan's arms. I don't know how long he'll keep me in them. But I fucking pray he never lets go. Not even for a fucking second.

And then I realized another thing as everything fades to black. Maybe I am a fag for him. But in the end. I really don't mind. Not at all.

It wasn't until the next day that I realize, that was the best fucking sleep I've ever had in my life. In Stan Marsh's arms. The pussy-fag. The only person whose capable of making me into as much as a pussy and fag as him if not more.


End file.
